


Building

by Amali



Series: Regenerating [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Female Bilbo, M/M, Nothing explicit, Pregnancy, Shorts, but probably triggering, fiction as therapy, mentions of past rape, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amali/pseuds/Amali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shorts set in the Regenerating Verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Expecting

**Author's Note:**

> These are prompts from tumblr and elsewhere. If there is anything you're curious about, feel free to ask and I will probably end up writing something. This first story was supposed to sweet. But my own fertility issues and fears pushed their way into this a little. Inspired by [this ask](http://steampagan.tumblr.com/post/66545641601/how-did-thoriin-the-dwarfs-react-to-bella-being).

Bella stood in front of the long mirror leaning against the wall of the bathing chamber, listening to her husband singing a smithing song as he finished washing his hair, and put her hands on her belly, wiggling her fingers and bouncing her little pudge and trying to decide if she was finally gaining some weight back after the cold months. Large arms folded around her and Thorin’s hands tangled with her own as his lips fastened to her ear. “Hello, _ghivashel_. How do you feel?”

“Tired.” She leaned back into his hairy chest and let him support her weight. “Cold.”

“Mmm.” He pulled her closer, his wet skin sliding against her back and only making her shiver. “That’s because I cut great big holes in the Mountain for you.”

“And made the glass blowers replace the windows twice until you were happy with the seal, husband.” Thorin laughed and fetched her a towel, wrapping her and planting a kiss on the crown of her head.

“Pretty hobbit. You have survived a long winter and you deserve the sun.” She raised her eyebrow as he drew her to the bench and sat down on his own towel, holding out his arms for her, but she could not hide her smile at his invitation. Once she was settled in his lap, he began to comb her hair, braiding and slipping her beads into place, whispering her true name and she could only sigh in response, nipping at his neck and curling her fingers through his chest hair. Thorin tolerated her teasing for a time, then very deliberately set aside the comb and kissed her breathless, until both of them could take no more and the first three attempts to move failed. Finally Thorin carried her to their bedroom and draped her on the bed, where she burrowed in the furs and quilts and tried to pretend watching her husband dress himself was not one of the best sights in all of Middle Earth. By the smile on Thorin’s face as he turned and posed after his heavy breeches hung on his waist, she was failing miserably.  “My Bella, you must get out of bed eventually.”

“Who says?”

“Your tutors.”

“Oh, bother, I’d forgotten.” The little hobbit groaned and held out her arms beseechingly, fluttering her eyelashes until Thorin swooped in and covered her face in kisses as she giggled and finally agreed to dress. She had a new dress of green wool, and Thorin buttoned her in carefully, kissing the back of her neck and running his nose along her jaw before releasing her slowly. The sun had barely crested the horizon as they entered their main chambers, and someone knocked.

“Enter!” Thorin squeezed Bella’s hand as Dwalin loomed, the shapes of the King and Queen’s Guard behind him in a fearsome array. The leaders of Erebor made their way to their separate destinations, and Bella tried not to show how walking away from Thorin hurt her, but lost her resolve and glanced over her shoulder in time to see his face in profile, only turning when their eyes had met briefly, his smile enough to warm her on the long walk to Balin’s office. Bifur was already waiting, eating his breakfast with his boar spear at his side, and pointed at her shoulders. Balin laughed even as he poured them weak tea and put a tiny dollop of honey despite her protests about the rationing, and she cupped the mug in her hands.

“Bifur said something about cold.”

“ _Shândabi_!” Bifur chuckled and pointed to something behind her.

“And that means yes. Roughly.”

“You’re getting better. He said you’ll get cold without a wrap, and suggested you use the tapestry depicting the Rescue of the Eagles.” Bella glanced behind her at one of the new tapestries the weaver’s guild had presented Balin and laughed ruefully.

“And I understood _cold_.” She sighed and shook her head. “Your language is so different from mine.”

“Would you expect anything else?” Balin lay the beautiful chart he had made across his desk. “At least we have the common tongue. Your understanding of the _cirth_ is coming along nicely.”

“That’s my name!” She laughed and tapped her finger at the top of the paper. “Belladonna’s lessons. Thank you, _adad_.”

“Now then, we were learning how to speak in the present, were we not?”

“ _Shundibi_.” Bifur and Balin laughed and Bella covered her mouth, flushing pink. “Oh, my pronunciation! _Shaaandaaabiiii. Shândabi._ ”

“I can’t fault you, daughter.” Balin wiped his eyes, still laughing. “Where we are harsh as stone, you are as soft as the summer breeze. I still can’t understand you, and you are making remarkable progress. Let us begin.”

 

By the end of the lesson, Bella felt more confident in her translations, and whispered her true name to Balin, biting her lip as he blinked at her and then swept her into a tight embrace, and Bifur clamored to hear the news. She understood when he said, “It is the only name you could ever have,” and when Regin opened the door, he found them all with tears on their cheeks. But her guard said nothing as Bifur walked with the Queen to her next appointment, meeting with more new arrivals and hearing their stories, giving them gold coins that were still endless from her part of the riches and welcoming them to Erebor. She loved seeing the joy in their eyes when they opened the simple chest her guards carried forward, and the young son, a lad of her own age but shy, fell to his knees at her feet and begged to join her guard as thanks for welcoming his family as his parents looked on in pride. With a few quiet words, she raised the young dwarf to his feet and didn’t try to hide her smile.

“I would be more than honored to have your shield arm protecting me. My Captain will see to it. You have your housing assignment from the Lord Balin’s adjuncts?”

“We do, your Highness.”

“Do you require assistance getting there with your belongings?”

“No, Highness. We are ready to begin serving Erebor.”

“Then we welcome you.” They all bowed low, the eager lad promising to find Regin once his parents were settled. Bella wobbled as she stepped down from the welcome dais by the Front Gate and had to sit on the steps, breathing through her nose. She could smell everything, including the armor polish of her guards, and waved Regin away from her until her head stopped spinning and her stomach settled. “I need to get back to my chambers.”

“At once.” She glanced up as her escort surrounded her and shuddered when she saw Narvi walking away from her. Surely her momentary weakness would be known by the day’s end, and she cursed quietly as she made her way along the private corridors. Her courses were supposed to have arrived yesterday, and she was afraid their delay meant she was falling ill. Once she was back in her sparsely furnished quarters, Bella collapsed in her armchair without even taking off her crown, closing her eyes. There was a meeting with the delegates to Dale soon, but her entire body ached. Perhaps they would accept a meeting with one of the other Heroes.

“Regin, is Fíli in his rooms?”

“We will check.”

“And see if Kíli is around.” Bella finally cracked one eye open, trying to muster a smile. “Thank you.”

“Highness, you need not thank us. It is our duty.”

“The manners of my mother demand otherwise.” Regin bowed before issuing orders to the rest of the guards. Bella had finally figured out the key to telling the heavily armored dwarves apart was memorizing the combination of armor and weapon, each unique to the dwarf, and ran through the names as she eavesdropped on her Captain. Ríkví was from the Iron Hills, unmarried, and a talented drummer. Huldar, who had an unusual style of sword, had a fearsome scowl and only one eye, was a jeweler when he was not tearing apart trainees at the training yard, and she had a bracelet of golden wire from him that was so delicate she never would have believed it possible that dwarven fingers could manage such work. The last guard, Dómar, was young and eager, and reminded Bella of her young cousins and Kíli. She knew his parents were miners and he went home for dinner every third night, and that he could beat Huldar every fifth match, which is why Dwalin had recruited him for her guard.

But this was surface knowledge, and Bella knew her survival might one day depend on knowing the real hearts of those who stood between her and death. She only hoped she had enough time to get to know them before such a crisis happened. Regin returned to his post and she hid her eyes behind her hand before mentally shaking herself. “Regin, tell me about your family while we wait.”

 

When her nephews arrived, Bella was able to convince Fíli to talk to the delegates, and Kíli to go greet the wagon trains of settlers and traders coming back to Erebor while she pleaded exhaustion. They were worried but she was able to allay their fears, and finally changed from her court dress to a comfortable gardening smock, and spent some time out in her garden getting the soil ready for the cuttings and bulbs she was nurturing on the sills in the kitchen. Lost in her task, she did not notice the fading light outside until the door pushed open and Thorin appeared, garbed in his finery and frowning down at some papers in his hand as Regin bowed and disappeared into the corridor. Swallowing heavily, Bella stood and left her cuttings to meet him. “How was your day, _khurdu_?”

“We’re going to have to find more traders willing to go south.” Thorin bent and kissed her forehead, then leaned back and took in her dirty appearance. “Did the meeting with the delegates go well?”

“I sent Fíli in my stead.”

“They would have rather seen the Queen than Prince.” He brushed her hair back from her face and bent to kiss her cheek. “But your guards said you felt poorly, and I hope you took the time to rest.”

“I spent time with my plants.”

“My own Lady of the Fruits.” He touched her nose and laughed. “You’ve got dirt on your nose.”

“Bother.” She reached up to touch her face, but Thorin captured her wrist, smiling as he kissed her fingers, but tonight the familiar touch did not bring the warmth she was used to. Trying to swallow the pain, she took a breath as her husband straightened and asked her a question she wasn’t ready for.

“Are you ready to go to dinner, my Bella?”

“No.” His face went very still as she backed away, her heart racing in her ears. “I don’t want to.” His jaw clenched but he took a deep breath before responding, and his careful voice only made her feel worse.

“Then have the guards bring you food, _ghivashel_. I will return as soon as I am able.” She fell to her armchair, fumbling for a blanket and curling into a ball. Her forehead was sweaty and even the thought of a pipe turned her stomach. Burrowing deeper into the cushions, she didn’t look up when someone pushed into the room.

“Regin, I’m not hungry.”

“Highness, you have not been hungry these past three nights. We worry for you.” His reproach sounded like her mother and Bella peeked over the edge of her blanket to see him and his second, Ginnar, both clutching their axes and staring at her from the doorway. She grumbled but lowered the barrier.

“I could stomach some broth.”

“At once.” They left her and closed the door, but she could hear Regin tapping the butt of his weapon on the stone. This was intolerable. She was irritable with everyone, and couldn’t stand the thought of snapping at Kíli or Bifur in front of the kingdom. Or Thorin. She had already come close, and she screwed her eyes shut to try and stop the tears from spilling out, taking deep breaths and clenching her fists until she thought she might die, her throat burning her and her nose dripping. But it passed, as it always did, and she lay limp in the chair until Regin brought her chicken broth with rosemary and hovered until she drank down the beautiful concoction. Bombur must have done it himself, and the tears ambushed her before she could defend herself.

Her throat closed and she slammed her fist into the cushions embroidered so prettily, struggling to speak as Regin backed away, his eyes tight. “Please…just need time alone.” He was gone in moments and Bella stumbled to the bedroom, finding Thorin’s discarded tunic on the floor and bringing the heavy fabric to her face greedily, inhaling his scent until she no longer shook and was able to wipe her cheeks. Putting a hand to her lower belly, the hobbit grimaced at the discomfort she felt and decided she had been overdoing things. Perhaps washing her face and going to bed early would help. Halfway across the bedroom floor a sudden thought made her freeze. She was tired, sensitive and moody. And she knew. There could be only one explanation. A child grew inside of her, and she sank to her knees, overcome at the simple truth. But her joy lasted only moments before she bowed her head, unable to fight her tears any longer as she curled up on the rug, her hands still folded protectively over her womb.

 

When Thorin returned, she was already in bed, the blankets drawn up over her shoulders, curtains drawn partially and only one candle lit on his bedside. Her husband pushed the hanging fabric back and put a hand on her hip, but she closed her eyes before she could see the worry she knew would be scouring her soul. “You were missed tonight.”

“I needed the rest.”

“Are you ill? Ought I summon Óin?”

“No!” Bella snapped and immediately regretted her tone, but Thorin said nothing as he moved away from her, and she felt hot and miserable as she listened to him undress methodically, the thump of his boots against one of the chests as familiar now as song, the quieter rustle of fabric giving her warning as he joined her beneath the blankets. “Thorin…”

“You are tired. You have been working very hard, and you are still recovering.” Castigating herself for coward, Bella nodded at the excuse she had been given and rolled over to let him hold her close, unable to say a word. In the morning, when three attempts still had her growling she wasn’t getting up, Thorin kissed her ear and left without another word. Giving into her fear, Bella pulled the covers over her head and listened to Thorin leave the bathroom, his footsteps approaching her before slowing and retreating to the front room. She almost called him, but the main door slammed and Bella lay back in the bed, staring at the carved ceiling and trying to understand what was happening.

There was something wrong with her. All the other hobbit mothers had been smug in their pregnancies, glowing and petted and entirely happy. And here she was, weeping and pushing her husband away in her fear. And that she couldn't even explain why she was afraid only made it worse. Thorin had never spoken of children, and she had been too busy to dwell on such things. After all, everyone knew she couldn't have a baby. Why else would she have stopped going to the dances and been ignored? Thorin had two heirs, and she was blessed to have found another family, a father and sisters and brothers and even nephews to dote on, for all that they were decades her senior. Any hope of a child had been removed from her dreams long ago. So she lay in bed and wept, cursing herself, when there was a gentle knock at the empty doorframe. “Bella?”

“Dís!” Bella sat up, panicking, trying to scrub her tears away. “I'm sorry. I forgot we were going to...”

“Bella.” Dís perched on the end of the bed and raised her eyebrow. Her resemblance to her brother had never been more obvious and Bella hiccupped as she scrubbed at her cheeks. 

“I don't know what to do.”

“You've been very quiet these past weeks. I know that some of the nobles haven't been very welcoming, but...”

“It's nothing to do with Narvi this time.” Breath was finally returning to her lungs and Bella let out a long sigh. “I don't know how to talk to Thorin. I was never given lessons in tending a husband. And my own parents always said their own marriage was unusual.”

“In what way?” Dís’ voice was neutral, not condemning, and Bella felt the knot in her chest loosen as she replied. 

“My mother wandered and my father stayed closer to home, tended me until I was old enough to wander myself. They loved each other desperately, and were more affectionate than any other couple I ever saw, but they had long ago sorted out their marriage by the time I was born. When he died, she soon followed.”

“I would say you and my brother have something similar. Perhaps dwarves love differently than hobbits, but it sounds to me that your parents had a very dwarvish love of the other. Forget all other examples, Bella. Your relationship is yours alone to define. And Thorin would never turn from you. Ever.”

“I know that.  But it is hard to stop the whispers in my head.”

“They always are, my sister.” Dís reached out her hand and Bella clung to it, closing her eyes. “If you are so afraid, why not tell him with others there to support you? He would not mind unless it is private.”

“It is something that you would know soon.” Bella swallowed. “We dine apart tonight?”

“We do.”

“Then might I ask that we make it very private?”

“Of course.” Dís bowed. “As my Queen desires.”

“And you will be there?”

“Whenever you need me, sister.” Dís hugged Bella tightly before leaving, and Bella finally levered herself out of bed, and tottered to the sink to begin her day.

 

Bella did not see Thorin that day, and spent her time writing letters to the various monarchs with whom she had begun correspondence. Her letter to Thranduil was as short as she could make it, but her reply to Elrond might take two ravens. She read his latest missive again with a smile, hoping that Arwen was enjoying her visit with the Lady Galadriel. Though Bella had never met the ruler of Lothlórien, she and Celeborn had sent many gifts for the wedding, including books and an ingot of mithril that Thorin had locked away, muttering something about such a gift being too much and not enough. Bella had kept her curiosity contained. Her husband's relationship with elves was complicated enough, and he was more than grateful that she had taken over maintaining the necessary ties. 

Bard and Gunna had sent the latest assessment of their fields and Bella wrote out a list of what was to be done next. By a miracle, a hardy apple tree had survived in the ruined city, sheltered by a wall, and Bella was hopeful for the cuttings she had propagated to create an orchard. Perhaps tomorrow she could go visit. If she could get through dinner tonight. She buried her head in her hands, fighting a sudden onslaught of tears. She felt as though she had lied to Dís, because she was not afraid of Thorin's reaction, but her own abilities as a mother. She had never cared for the small children when she was a tween, and afterwards she had not been allowed to come near them. The ringing accusations of women at the market in Hobbiton suddenly came across the years and Bella bit back a sob before standing and fleeing to her garden, where the first bulbs were peeking from the soil, and stared out over her kingdom. Hers. She wanted to scream and cry and howl her anger at the sky, but she only sank to her heels and covered her face, letting the warmth of the paving stones and the presence of growing things wash over her until she could regain her feet. It was time.

 

“Thorin?” Her husband was beautiful. There was no other word she could use. His hair glittered silver and onyx in the torchlight, and his robe of blue was the color of the sky just after the sun had set, the perfect compliment to his chain of mithril. He fell silent, leaning forward from Balin’s side with the smile she knew was hers alone, and bowed his head for the briefest of moments.

“My Queen. You are a vision this night.” Her cheeks flushed as she met his nod with her own, hands brushing over her green robes and sash of purple. She was still trying to get used to the dwarf style of dress, but from the interested look in her husband’s eyes as he stood, he appreciated her efforts as he rounded the table with purposeful strides.

“Before we eat, I have news.” Bella finally turned her head and looked at the rest of the Company, Dís giving her an encouraging smile. In moments, Thorin stopped in front of her, taking her hand in his and pressing his lips to her knuckles, the short bristles of his beard soft on his skin.

“What is it, _ghivashel_?” Bella took a deep breath and stepped back, her hands forming fists. Now that it was time, her throat was closing again and she fought against her panic savagely. This was a good thing. Perhaps the best thing to ever happen to her. But her eyes blurred before she could open her mouth, and her words grated in her ears.

“I’m…I’m going to have your child. Our child.” All conversations ceased and she was the absolute center of attention, but her eyes were only on Thorin’s as he blinked rapidly, his mouth opening and closing with no sound. “In the winter, I think.”

“Child. You’re pregnant. With. Child. Our child. I don’t…” Bella tried to smile, but Thorin was staring as though she had sprouted another head. “How?”

“The usual way.” Dís groaned, but the royal couple was locked in their own world, and Bella felt a tear roll down her cheek. He didn’t look pleased. But then his big hand was cupping her cheek and she finally looked into his eyes.

“A baby?”

“Yes.” Finally, a smile broke through her tears. He stepped back, looking around at his family and friends as though he had just realized they were there, and looked back at her.

“A baby. Your baby.”

“Thorin!” Covering her mouth, Bella tried to stop her ill-timed laughter, but he was happy and more overwhelmed than she. “A baby, _khurdu_. Yes.”

“You’re.” His mouth snapped closed as his eyes rolled back in his head and he was on the ground in front of her, hand still over his heart. She shrieked and threw herself at him, but Dwalin was at her side, tankard of water in hand.

“He’s fine, lass. Not the first dwarf father to react this way, either.” Her brother planted a sloppy kiss to her forehead and hugged her tightly, his laughter erupting deep in his chest as he pulled her away from the prone form of her husband. Thorin woke sputtering as his cousin threw water into his face, wiping at his eyes and mouth until he saw Bella standing over him, and froze.

“Bella?”

“Yes?” She held out her hands as he sat up slowly, and he took them, kneeling at her feet and staring up at her as though he had never seen her before.

“You’re going to have a baby.”

“Yes.”

“Our baby.”

“You said that.”

“How did I become so blessed? A wife and child in the space of a year?” The rest of the Company cheered, but Bella shook her head in confusion.

“I…it’s rather late, I know, since we’re several months past the wedding, but…”

“What do you mean?” Thorin cupped her face in his hand, running his thumb over her cheek and wrapped his other arm around her waist. “ _Ghivashel_ , I never expected this so soon. Never dared hoped I might be a father one day, and that I might see you a mother.”

“You want this?”

“Oh.” He pressed his lips to her sash, eyes closed tight, and she saw tears on his eyelashes. “My Bella. I had forgotten.” Bella closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath, and both of Thorin’s arms were around her in moments, one hand cradling her head to his chest and the other gentle on her belly. “You are going to be a wonderful mother, my Queen. Not a one of us doubt you.” Cries of agreement rang among the rafters, and Bella found herself being passed from dwarf to dwarf as her family mobbed them, all of them kissing her cheeks and whispering their joy. Fíli and Kíli claimed her first, holding her between them and congratulating her formally, their princely words marred by their broad smiles and insinuating winks as they promised to help care for their cousin. She was rescued by Balin, who wrapped his arms around her saying nothing, and Bella let him pretend he could protect her with his love, knowing what her surrogate father had lost. Before she could say anything, Nori stole her, kissing her cheeks and promising to be the worst uncle ever, but Bella just laughed at his antics as she was swept away by Bombur and Bofur. She was danced around by the rest of her family, Glóin and Suthri promising to help whenever she needed, and Óin scolding her for not coming to him right away when she suspected. Barely managing to promise she would visit tomorrow, Bella was caught up by Ori, who gave her a brief hug before blushing red and let her go so quickly she nearly fell but Bifur caught her. She understood everything he said and managed to reply before Dori swept her away, the strong dwarf setting her to the ground as though she was made of glass in front of her dripping husband and laughing sister, who was toweling her brother’s hair dry with a napkin. Both stopped as the Queen appeared before them, and Dís bent to hug her tightly, pulling Bella from Thorin for a moment.

“You are going to be a wonderful mother, my sister. And look at uncles and cousins your babe will have, all helping you. You’re not alone.”

“And a most stupendous aunt, to teach and hold them.”

“What of their father?” Thorin reclaimed Bella, nudging his sister aside to take his wife’s hands. Dís rolled her eyes but smiled as she pushed his shoulder, and her words were soft.

“Their father will be their guide and protector, and teach them the true meaning of strength.” Bella watched her husband and sister look at the other, knowing they were thinking of their own family, and squeezed Thorin’s hand in unspoken support. She would have to remember this lesson, but for now, she would let her unspeakable joy carry her.

“A task their mother will accomplish better than I, I think.” Bending, Thorin put his hands on her waist and waited for her nod before lifting her in his arms, carrying her to his seat and holding her close, bending his mouth to her ear. “Were you afraid to tell me before, _ghivashel_?”

“ _Bhí mé_.” She slipped into her own tongue for a moment, overwhelmed, but Thorin seemed to understand her answer and kept his head buried in her neck and hair, forcing their family to give them the illusion of privacy for a moment.

“We will speak more of this later. But you need not fear me, Bella. You know you are my life.”

“There is a new life now.”

“Yes. Together we will nurture it. Do you feel ready to face them?”

“With you at my side.” Bella kissed Thorin’s cheek, and his hands tightened on her shoulders as Kíli began to quiet the rest of the group.

“Uncle, Auntie, join us!” The table raised their mugs as Fíli went from tankard to tankard with an ewer, sitting by his mother and hoisting his drink. “A toast!” Thorin stood, waiting for a moment and bending to plant a kiss to Bella’s head.

“To our child!” The toasts rang in the air, and Bella snuggled into her husband’s side, the love of her family all she could see and hope for the future nestled in her heart.


	2. Dressing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change in dress causes Bella to question her eagerness to shed her identity as a hobbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [ARRowntree](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ARRowntree/profile), who showed me this [picture](http://steampagan.tumblr.com/post/65907269418/aderynrrowntree-fripperiesandfobs-robe-a), and this story was born.

“Exactly how many layers again?” Attempting to keep the dismay from her voice, Bella sank to her chair stared at Dís, who had arrived with a new set of court robes to instruct the fledgling Queen to more of her people’s customs. The chest sat between them, plain white fabric hiding the treasure within, and her fingers itched to see the clothes, but she waited, knowing Dís had been looking forward to this moment in the few weeks since she had arrived from the Blue Mountains.

“This style uses ten. Don’t make that face, sister. You haven’t seen what our weavers can do with the proper tools.” Unraveling a shimmering green shift, Dís shook the sheer fabric in the air and presented it to Bella, who hesitated before running her hands over the delicate piece. “This particular layer is the longest, and gives your robe a pleasing hem above your boots.”

“Now, that is where I put my foot down! Slippers I might have a chance of mastering, but I can’t be that far from the ground, Dís.”

“My apologizes.” Dís, unperturbed, smiled and Bella deflated, her cheeks flushing as the Princess continued. “A figure of speech only.”

“And my temper is frayed. If the layers are as light as petals, I begin to understand how more might be required, especially for court. Was it so cold before?”

“Oh, aye. Those windows, you see, and the size of the cavern itself makes it impossible to heat. I’m sure some enterprising king in the early days of settlement created this style for warmth and showing off.” Dís smiled, staring off into the distance. “Fortunately, I was too young to have to stay in there for any length of time. And I think the people will accept that you will need a pillow to sit on. We’ll have to find out.”

“It wasn’t all carved?”

“My, no. Erebor was once a volcano, and my ancestors followed the old lava tubes for the initial shape of the early chambers.”

“That explains some things, at least.” Bella couldn’t imagine what an active volcano might look like, but Ori would have a book for her and she set her curiosity aside to focus on her lesson. A dwarf in the formal dress of Erebor’s Court was a spectacular sight, and though she found the styles strange, she had seen the need to show her people she was not a complete stranger. A more honest corner of her mind admitted she missed her closets of clothes and craved something new and beautiful after the winter wearing cast offs from the children of Dale. The wedding hadn't even been a month ago, and already she was feeling the weight of her crown. “But I want to see the outer robe Eikin made for me.”

“Not yet, sister. There are eight other layers first.” And Bella found much to admire in each of them, from the innermost robe of finest wool to the lavender shift with a high collar that went under the outer robe, covering the back of her neck against the chill of her throne. Finally, Dís turned to the box she had carried in and Bella covered her eyes, unsure what to anticipate beyond the colors. “Take a look.”

“Now I’m scared.” But she peeked between her fingers and squeaked as she beheld the creation hanging before her eyes. Geometric patterns of golden thread covered a dark green robe, and it took her a moment to see the details of her lavender motif. “How...he showed me a bale of fabric less than a fortnight ago! How did they achieve this?”

“You are asking the wrong dwarf.” Bella took a hesitant step forward and ran the hem of her robe though her fingers, feeling the delicate stitching any hobbit would envy. She thought, with practice, she might approach such perfection but a Queen had other responsibilities. “It will be well received in the throne room.”

“I hope so.” Trying to catch her breath, Bella gulped. “What of the sash? I think I need to practice using it as a pocket.”

“Indeed.” Dís revealed a length of lavender silk, the embroidery the same as the robe but with a different thread of silver that nearly disappeared, giving the fabric a beautiful texture. The tightness required left Bella gasping, but she grew used to the constrictions as they walked around the room, and she practiced tucking her handkerchief and other small items in the fabric. Undressing required holding still and letting Dís untie the sashes and work the stiff buttons through their closures, until the chest was once again full of its treasure and Bella laced into her old dress, the image of the Queen seared into her mind.

“Thorin doesn't know?”

“Unless Nori or Bofur told him, but they're all busy.”

“Aren't we all. I need to get down to the gate soon.”

“I'll walk you there.” Arm in arm, the two leaders had to pick a winding path down, two bridges and a ramp that would shorten the trek by long minutes still under repair. There was much to see on the journey, and Bella asked questions about the carvings and murals, Dís answering to the best of her memory. But before they could reach the main junction, Dís was pulled away to solve a dispute between two traders and Bella dove into greeting the new arrivals, learning their stories, unable to see the shocked smiles on their faces as they left with her gifts of gold and welcome. She was always turning to see the confusion on the faces of those who had thought her existence mere rumor, and heard the questions of the younger dwarves doubting a Queen would look so plain despite the fact they themselves wore traveling clothes and their parents shushed them for being disrespectful.

It was well past second breakfast when she was finished, but she ignored the insistence from her stomach that she needed to eat to rush back to her quarters, where Thorin was waiting, going over thick reams of paper at his marble desk until she ran behind him.“Be careful!” He laughed, reaching out to steady her and press his lips to her cheek as she tried to catch her breath. “A Queen is never late. The Court is simply early.”

“A hobbit is known for her manners, and I will not keep them waiting in that cold room any longer than I must.” Even as she retorted, though, Bella stood on her tiptoes to pull Thorin into a long kiss, reveling in this moment they could have alone. Already, she was learning that the average farmer in Hobbiton had more free time than a King, and made sure Thorin knew she cherished her time with him more than any other treasure in Erebor. He nipped at her neck, whispering her name, and she knew he wanted nothing more than to take her back to their bedroom as his lips traveled lower still, but they both stopped when they heard their guards in the corridor.

“I suppose I will at least have the satisfaction of dressing you.” The chest was waiting in the bedroom, and Bella threw aside the old dress, ready to have Thorin see her as a Queen of the Longbeards and not a threadbare hobbit. She was still fumbling with the many layers, but Thorin's hands were as sure with ties as with a sword, and the awe in his eyes when he finished with her sash and stepped back was everything she had needed to see.

“Every eye will be dazzled by your beauty.” He spent a moment with her braids, tightening the hair that would support her jeweled flowers, and she returned the favor, making sure his crown sat proud on his brow as Fíli poked his head inside the room.

“Raka says some of the nobles are gathered already, but they're not saying anything useful.”

“Not with her staring down at them, at least.” The walk down to the throne room was faster, the hidden corridor one of the most intact, and Bella's stomach flipped as she prepared to walk out into the dais and sit on her throne. It had all been an amusing game, dressing like a dwarf, but now that it was time for those outside her family to see, she was afraid of what her critics would say. There was no time to change her mind or her clothes, and already the guards were pouring past them, all the announcement the King and Queen required. She could never remember the short walk across the dais, and she was unable to focus her eyes until she had seated herself on the cold stone. She wanted her ring. It sat in the casket Thorin had made, and she thought she could feel it in her sash, calling for her, until the Arkenstone flickered overhead and distracted her from her need. Finally, Bella was able to look around at the various leaders and nobles, seeing their reactions to her altered appearance.

There was respect, and even acceptance in many smiles and nods directed towards her, but Bella felt stiff and dizzy on her throne, an imposter with borrowed finery. Thorin's hand on hers helped, and Dwalin's comforting presence eased her mind, but she heard half of what was being said and only understood the occasional word, floating around her head as she struggled to maintain her dignity. There was little for her to do, besides nod when Thorin did, and after an hour the audience had ended.

There was too much work to do for them to sit for any longer, and Bella fled to their rooms to shed her robes and write more letters south, preparing the way for official envoys to the court of Gondor and Rohan. So much had been lost to Smaug's final attack, even the seeds and storehouses on the shores of the Lake, and while the men of Dale and Esgaroth prepared the soil, and tended to vegetables, neither kingdom could feed themselves yet. Bella knew she could create a surplus in five years, if Bard took her advice, but she had to get the seeds and food to sustain many mouths. When she had done all she could, she went to her own garden and tended to the spring vegetables, making sure the soil felt right under her hands and watering the beds from the spigot Dori and Gimli had installed for her. By and by, she sank back on her heels and stared out over the flanks of Erebor, her eyes unseeing. As her fingers danced over the little band of gold secure in her pocket, she wondered what the garden at Bag End looked like after the winter. Surely Drogo had taken possession, even if he hadn't yet wed Prim. Perhaps Hamfast had been hired to look after the grounds, and Bell Gamgee to tend to the house. Drogo had been more interested in land management, and he would have his hands full with the Baggins and Took holdings that she had surrendered. Her closets probably reeked of mothballs, her pretty skirts and waistcoats waiting for another.

“Auntie, you look sad.” Shaken from her thought's ceaseless agitation, Bella found Kíli standing nearby, armed with his new swords and daggers, but his smile was the same and she could almost believe he stood in the entryway to Bag End, admiring her little home with dancing eyes.

“Not sad, Kíli, just thinking.”

“Is it the habit of hobbits to frown so after such a triumphant debut?”

“It is the concern of a hobbit afraid she might have overstepped her bounds.”

“How is that?”

“Taking on your court dress.”

“Our court dress.” He corrected her, pointing to one of her braids and the bead that rested there. “When Uncle wove that there, you became a Longbeard of Erebor, and I heard many say you looked a fitting Queen today.”

“I felt a fraud.” Kíli wrapped his arms around her in an impulsive hug that she didn’t flinch back from, to her internal amazement, and he made her come in from the cold spring breezes that wrapped the Mountain in clouds after she shivered. As they walked, Kíli glanced down at Bella and asked a question she had been avoiding.

“Then what will you do for the temple dedication? I thought that's what your robes were for.” Bella nodded, hoping he would understand.

“It was. I can't imagine standing before Mahal and Yavanna both, feeling as I did in front of the Court. It would be disrespectful.” Her nephew tugged on his hair, frowning as he tended to the fire.

“And your wedding dress? Uncle seemed to like that one.”

“That would be terrible bad luck!” Bella shook her head. “Once a dress is worn by a bride, dear nephew, it may only be worn by another bride. I’ve set it aside and…” She fell silent, the enormity of her unspoken wish too much for her. “That would be even worse.” Kíli shrugged, smiling as he sat on the bench across from her, pulling out a dagger to rest the edge.

“This is all beyond me, auntie dear.”

“You're sweet to listen to a silly hobbit's thoughts, Kíli. I will be fine. I'm sure I’ll grow used to it in time.” Bella expected nothing more to come of her conversation, until Dís arrived the next morning after breakfast and shooed Thorin to his forge. Her brother left without complaint, though the look he gave Bella as he left had her trembling and cursing Dís. He would reap his reward that night.

“Come with me, sister. And bring the blue silk dress Fíli told me about.”

“It's ruined.” Protesting, Bella nonetheless obeyed the steel gaze that drove all thoughts of her husband from her, and followed Dís on her mysterious errand. It wasn't until they neared the weaver's guild that she understood, and balked. “I'll hurt his feelings!”

“He'll relish the challenge. Fíli said that dress is your favorite. Have Eikin design something you would be proud to wear before our creators and your people.”

“Only if you promise not to tell anyone.”

“So sworn.” Dís bowed her head and told the apprentice at the door they wanted an audience with the guild leader. Within moments, they were inside his personal workspace, and Dís, blessed diplomat, was telling him that while Bella loved her new robes, she wanted something to honor her heritage and her kingdom at the temple. Eikin’s smile never wavered, though he did turn to his Queen with some confusion.

“I know nothing of your people, Majesty, as much as it shames me, since you are my Queen.”

“We honor Mahal as consort of Yavanna.” Bilbo held the blue silk dress, the water ruined silk rough under her palms. “Since I am her daughter first, I want to honor her husband in my own way. This...this used to be my favorite dress.”

“This is in the old Gondor style.” The weaver took the garment, holding the seams up into the candlelight. He glanced over the table at Bella, who couldn't tear her gaze from the ruined fabric, and cleared his throat before continuing. “Fine work. Though I do not recall seeing many hobbits wearing such dresses?” Recognizing his delicate question as kindness, Bella nodded, casting her eyes to the table.

“And you never would have. This was a gift from my parents, but though I admire the work of men, a similar dress with dwarven touches would suit me better.” Eikin nodded, lost in staring at the beading, but set the dress down with care.

“I will begin work on a pattern. Give some thought to what style of fabric you might want. I think we could come up with something more dramatic, given the simplicity of the silhouette, and that would honor both Mahal and his Queen.”

“I will, Master.” But all Bella could think of as she directed her guards back to her rooms, was of the dress she had left behind with so little ceremony, and when she was alone, closed her eyes as memories overwhelmed her.

 

“Little flower!” Startled from her contemplation of the roses blooming by the kitchen window, Bella saw her father walking around the side of Bag End, a small wooden box in his hands. “Wash your hands and come to my study. My, those are beautiful!”

“I used the fish heads from the bucket you caught me last month. They've made the soil twice as productive.” Bungo kissed the top of her head as he hugged her, and Bella turned from the pain in his eyes to finish tending to the rose bush's roots, breathing in the heady perfume before she went back into the kitchen. Belladonna was standing at the stove, peering at something in the oven, but took the basket of gardening tools and shooed her daughter to the sink.

“And how are the flowers?”

“Thriving.”

“Young Bell Gamgee popped in for a spell, and she said Hamfast is rather envious of our garden.” Bella bit her tongue, wondering if the hobbits down the lane knew she was the directing force behind the blooms if they would be speaking with such generosity. Clean and trying to maintain her mask, Bella went to her father's study and pushed the door open, finding him pouring over a book, the box perched on top of some old maps and a tea set taking up most of the desk, steam rising from the teapot’s spout.

“Papa, be careful of these. They've been in the family for too long now.”

“Balderdash. See that tea stain? I know for a fact the Old Took put it there himself.” But Bungo set aside his book and helped her tidy for a few minutes, then used the stem of his old pipe to wave her to the other chair. “We've got to start thinking about your coming of age.” The topic, one she had paid little thought to over the years, stunned her and she stared at her father, waiting for him to smile and reveal the joke. When he simply took a puff on his pipe, eyebrows raised as he waited, she let out a breath and sank back against the chair.

“Father, that’s not for another sixteen months!”

“Then we've got just enough time.” Bungo coughed, and Bella poured more tea from the delicate teapot and offered her father a cup. He accepted and patted her hand, clearing his throat before setting the china aside. “We’ve been thinking about this for some time, your mother and I. We thought you should have something from us, though it goes against custom.” Bella tried to smile, the solemn tone her father had taken frightening her.

“That’s very kind of you both.”

“We sent for it from Gondor almost two years ago. It took some time for the dwarf traders to receive it from the Big Folk, but it finally arrived.”

“From Gondor!” Bella breathed, staring at the wooden container in her father’s hands, but didn’t reach out for her present until he handed it over, his smile hesitant as she lifted the lid to see a dusty length of muslin tied in a loose package, and lifted out the light contents with care. Once she saw the shimmering blue silk and intricate beading, tears filled her eyes and she threw her head back to avoid staining the precious fabric, fumbling for a handkerchief her father had to place in her groping hand, his voice hesitant.

“There, there, child. You like it?” Mute with surprise and overwhelmed at how much effort and money her parents had put into the dress, Bella nodded and threw her arms around her father's neck. He held her in silence, patting her back and letting her tears run their course. “There's more, but your mother wanted to show you and get you all dressed so we can see how it turned out.”

“It's the best present I've ever gotten, Papa.” He chuckled and retrieved his pipe from the desk, shaking a small amount of ash on the aged wood, but Bella couldn't spare a thought for the mess now. Arms trembling and cheeks damp, she found her mother in the hallway with her own burden of frilly underthings and a petticoat that was finer than most dresses in either of their closets, beaming and rocking from her heels to her toes. Upon seeing her daughter's tear stained cheeks, she tsked and drew Bella into a hug, crushing the delicate fabric without a care.

“Oh, baby, come here.” Springing back, Belladonna led Bella to her bedroom and lay the treasures out on the bed, sending the younger hobbit to her bath to prepare for her present and bringing her tea. There, Bella learned how Gandalf had taken a letter addressed to a dressmaker in Gondor and a bag of gold to pay for everything, enough money to buy a farm, Belladonna said with a dismissive hand wave only the favorite daughter of the richest hobbit in the Shire could manage, and found a Ranger he could trust to get over the Mountains. From there, a Rider from Rohan had carried the request to Gondor, where the dressmaker to the Steward made the dress, taking every piece of gold for her skill and the exotic fabric that came from the unmapped east. A dwarf caravan traveling to the Blue Mountains had taken the chest, promising to deliver it to the Shire. Pleased that Gandalf had figured in the little story, Bella wrapped herself in a thick towel and allowed her mother to examine the petticoat and lace trimmed drawers, the chemise that was softer than any fabric either had ever seen a marvel of the dressmaker's skill.

“Mother, it's too pretty for me.” Desperate, Bella sank to the floor. “You should be the one dressed in silks and other fine things.”

“Nonsense, Bella.” Wrapping her arms around her daughter, Belladonna knelt on the rug and petted the soft blonde curls under her hands, humming until Bella could breath again. Belladonna's voice was soft, but her words were clipped, and Bella could hear the anger simmering underneath her gentle words. “You’re beautiful, my daughter, and you deserve every last stitch, all the effort and time your father and I can muster.” Unable to believe, but knowing her mother needed reassurance, Bella gulped back her tears and nodded.

“Thank you, Mother.” They said little more as she was dressed, the soft under layers giving the blue silk structure neither had ever seen before, and when Bella was led to the dining room, she found the best china laying out amid dozens of candles, the silver sparkling and the dishes never ending. She managed a few smiles and even a laugh or two, and when the dress was folded away into its chest once more, she lay in her bed and wondered what other parties she might attend in her finery, dancing across the grass and flowers in her dreams. It was a memory that sustained her through the years after her parents died and she was left alone.

When the song of the dwarves had awoken the longing to see the world once more, Bella had stared at the rows and rows of clothes in her closets, dismissing most of them as the frivolities they were, knowing Primula would find more joy in them than she had, and had been about to turn away when the old chest, tucked out of the damp on a high shelf, had caught her eye. The petticoat and chemise had turned yellow with age, but the dress itself was in perfect condition, and Bella closed her eyes as she held it in her arms, remembering the perfect joy of the evening her mother and father had toasted her as an adult, before Bungo had died and Belladonna had faded. She wrapped the silk in the faded chemise and shoved the tiny bundle into the very bottom of her heavy pack, where it lay forgotten as she learned how to trust and love again among her new family. The look in Thorin's eyes when he had seen the creased and dirty fabric on her, the night in Beorn's house when her heart had reached out and found safety, had won her love, even if it took two more months for her to admit her feelings.

 

A week later, Bella was invited to the weaver's great hall, filled with the clacking of the great looms and the weaving songs that kept the rhythm, and was drawn into one of the private workshops. A dummy made to her measurements still smelled of the wood and varnish that had gone into its construction, and several scraps of fabric were pinned to the wall, including the gifts Lord Elrond had sent her. The remainder of that sumptuous fabric was folded away on a cedar chest, and she reached out to touch the velvet again, glancing around the small room with interest. Her various sigils and motifs, most designed by Balin and Ori after some consultation in the library, danced above her head, and even a fair sketch of her crown dazzled the eyes. “This is all just for me?”

“This is the Queen's room from the time this hall was claimed as ours.” Eikin pointed to the runes over the door. “Each member of the royal family had one. It would not do to confuse your sigil with your sister's, or the King's with one of his heirs.”

“I suppose not.” She admired the rough design presented to her, but the bolt of new woven stark green silk left her mute with dismay. She could think of nothing to suggest in its place, and the lavender accent was the exact shade she had requested, but though the meeting ended well, Bella went about the rest of her day worrying that she was going to appear dour and uncaring before Yavanna and her people. She was listless at dinner, unable to participate in the lively discussion about the growing numbers of traders and craftsmen already making Erebor a true kingdom once more. When the meal was over, she was cajoled into inviting her nephews back to her rooms to read them a story after Thorin said he had some last minute business. Once she was in her cozy armchair, Bella stared down at the history she had started to read to Fíli and Kíli while they were bedridden after the battle, but the cover remained closed, and the two dwarves sprawled on the rug in front of the fire seemed to sense her disquiet.

“Is this about your dress, Bella?” Fíli sat up and scooted closer to her feet, startling her from her reverie.

“Partly. My blue dress...my parents put a lot of thought into it. I don't know quite how to say what about it makes it so beautiful to me. I wanted to share something like it with you.”

“What's wrong with the newest design, then?” Bella blinked as she considered, but she could only say,

“The fabric is strange, uncaring.”

“Uncaring?” Kíli prompted, and Bella grasped for her words. She never had this problem when writing a letter, but expressing her desires out loud was still difficult.

“There is nothing living about it.” The brothers glanced at each other, and she read their confusion, but before she could think of another way to explain her half formulated thoughts, they sat on either side of her.

“How would you have it instead?” Fíli rested his chin on his upheld fist, and his patience allowed her to throw out the first word that had occurred to her when she had seen the

“Flowers.”

“Flowers.” They both repeated her, nodding. Smiling, Kíli got to his feet and fetched one of her journals, turning to the back to find a blank page and offering her a charcoal pencil from his sash. “What kind of flowers?”

“Mountains bells.” She wrote it down as she said it, then included a brief sketch of the delicate flower. “Roses too.”

“Lavender?” She stuck out her tongue at Fíli, who only returned the gesture and waved her on, asking for more.

“Ivy. Lots of ivy, to hold the other flowers together. Forget-me-nots.”

“What are those?”

“They are small, smaller than my nails even.” She waggled her hand, demonstrating what she meant. “Blue as Thorin's eyes.” Her nephews groaned, but made her draw them, making a note about the scale of each flower and leaf relative to the other.

“We will take this to Dori, and he will talk to Eikin as a craft master to another.”

“Dori is an alchemist.”

“And his mother was a weaver.”

“Oh yes.” Embarrassed she had forgotten, Bella tore the page out with care, making sure it did not rip. “Have I insulted him by going to Eikin instead?”

“Of course not. But he will understand the terms we can't, and they can talk without the pressure of you looking over the proceedings. What kind of robe will this be?”

“A very special one, oh prying sister son.” Bella shooed them away, pleased some of her surprise was still intact, and went to work in her garden with greater energy than she had felt in a long time.

 

The day of the ceremony, Eikin had delivered the chest himself, and Dís was on hand to help Bella prepare. They had a scant hour until the ceremony was to start, and Bella knew An was not as forgiving as the Court for tardy arrivals. The hobbit had no time to admire the deft construction of the panels or the astonishing embroidery that was so fine her fingers could not distinguish the stitches. The dress was a riot of color, against a background of green, and the inset panel on the bodice was soft lavender stitched with her sigil in gold thread, a nod to her favorite sash. It was only when she had been laced into the chemise, her petticoat secured by a fine belt, did Bella notice the tears in Dís' eyes. “Sister?”

“You must feel very lonely here sometimes.”

“Nothing will ever compare to how lonely I was before, Dís.” Bella hugged her sister tight, closing her eyes. “I might miss how things were, that I no longer live in the home where I was born. But while my garden is gone, my heart contains more love than I ever thought possible. This way I can share who I am with the rest of you, and not fear that you will judge me.”

“My sister is wise.” Dís kissed Bella’s cheek and dabbed at her eyes, glancing over her shoulder. “And has an impatient husband. He’s at the doorway, if you want to let him in.” Bella could only nod, her fists clenching in her skirts as she waited for his reaction.

“My Queen.” Thorin stared at Bella, his eyes flickering from her face to her dress and back. “You look...you are astonishing.” Her fists softened as she let out the breath she had been holding, and Bella smiled as her husband stepped forward to gather her in his arms, hands running down her back to grasp her waist. Their kiss was interrupted by the distant gongs, and they turned to join their family and proceed down to the restored temple, marveling at the new construction that had been hidden behind scaffolding and dust, and listening to the dull roar coming from the temple. The great doors, taller than many trees Bella had seen, stood open, inviting the monarchs to enter to be seen by their creator and people. The rest of the royal retinue left to take their places, leaving their King and Queen behind to wait for An's invitation. Thorin bent his head over Bella's, holding her close.“You look as beautiful as you did when you wore your blue dress for me. Flowers suit you, my hobbit, and so does the confidence they lend you.”

“I feel myself.” She managed, blinking back tears. Her husband had an insight she found difficult to match, and she thanked him for understanding as they waited, clasping hands until they heard An's voice calling their names.Bella held her head high, her hand on Thorin's arm keeping her steady as she walked the long center aisle to kneel at the feet of the veiled Mahal. Whispers rose behind the pair until An fixed the temple with her scathing eyes, waiting for quiet before going to the cloth and tugging at Bifur's careful arrangement, standing aside so all could admire the new statue meant to honor their Maker.

His hammer, held in his right hand, was covered in vines that seemed to move in the torchlight, and around his right wrist a wreath similar to her crown shone against the stark rock of his skin. She knew without being told that whatever had been here before, flowers had not played a part, and that as long as Erebor stood, there would be a reminder of the hobbit queen who had stood against a dragon and brought back the flowers.

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur of half understood phrases, but she at least knew the replies by heart when she and Thorin were brought up onto the dais to represent their people, welcoming Mahal’s presence into the sacred cave. The joy and approval Bella saw when she turned filled her heart to bursting, and the tears on her cheeks were as warm as the arm around her waist as Thorin guided her back to their seats. She could hear Yavanna's name being whispered through the temple, and hoped she had honored her Mother in the eyes of her people.

An called on the kingdom to stand as one, and the song they sang, low and sad, echoed in the rocks until it seemed the entire Mountain wept with the Queen. Bella knew her voice was swallowed in the deep tones of the dwarves, but sang anyway, watching Mahal's impassive face and hoping he understood that while she was the daughter of his wife, she honored him as best she could. The end of the dedication service was solemn, as they remembered all those lost to the dragon and the long exile, but when An thanked Mahal for his continued protection and guidance, Bella could feel the joy of the entire kingdom washing over her, and she knew she was home.


	3. Rescuing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A suprise awaits Bella as she tends to her garden high on the slopes of Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat, Nikita, died a month ago today from breast cancer. This short is my way of paying tribute to her. Miss you, little monster.

There was a distressing sound echoing close by and the Queen of Erebor jerked her head to stare about her garden. The three terraces, bare this early in the spring, showed no sign of movement. Brushing off her bare knees as she stood, and straightening her gardening smock, Bella stood to crane her neck around, taking a few steps closer to the carved wall that kept her from seeing the great height and peered over the edge with some trepidation. On the rugged face below she saw a small black shape moving closer, and for a horrible moment she was in the goblin caves once again. But then she saw small paws instead of grasping hands, and soft eyes instead of colorless orbs.

“A cat!” A kitten, in point of fact, with too large ears and paws that were hindering its progress up the slope. Bella dithered, seeing that the small animal was rapidly running out of ledge, but trapped by her fear. Trees and cave walls were one thing, but the sheer face below the Royal Wing always made her heart flutter. Casting about, she ran into her potting cave and found some lengths of twine that had held burlap covers over bushes the last winter. Knotted together, the rope just might reach the little kitten who had started mewing again when Bella was out of sight. Lowering the single strand while keeping her other hand firmly on the wall, she held the twine as still as she was able, but the kitten only reared back on two legs to swat at the swinging end. Recognizing her mistake, Bella snatched the string back and met the kitten's eyes. “Just stay there, little one.” But the movement she pulled back from the wall, the pitiful cries started again. Trapped, Bella leaned over the wall, waggling her fingers in an attempt to distract the little animal. It sat down, cocking its head to one side, and mewed again.

“Right. Oh, Thorin is going to laugh at me...” Gritting her teeth, Bella swung one leg over the side, remembering all the times her family had called her izlêg burgarug, squirrel of all things, and was about to attempt the climb down to the kitten when black wings fluttered in her face and sent her falling to the terrace with a scream.

“Bella!” Blasted ravens! She twisted over to see Raka perched nearby, beak open and wings flared. “What are you doing?”

“Raka, you could have killed me!”

“You were doing a fine job of that yourself.” The raven croaked, dancing from side to side. “What are you trying to do, learn to fly the hard way?”

“There's a kitten trapped down there.”

“A cat!” The hiss and flared wings conveyed everything Raka thought of such a creature, but Bella had a new plan and scrambled to her feet.

“Yes, a cat, and you are going to help me rescue it, darling bird.”

“I will not.”

“Yes. Otherwise I will just try and climb down there again. Here. Loop this around its body and I'll take care of the rest. We must hurry!”

“Cats hunt my kind.” Raka put her head to the side as another beseeching cry sounded from below them, and Bella clasped her hands together, letting her friend listen to more squalling before pleading,

“Oh, please Raka? I swear it won't be a threat to you or your nests. Please.” Dignity meant nothing when there was a life in danger. “I will do anything you ask.”

“I will hold you to your oath, Queen.” Raka snatched the loop in her beak and fluttered over the wall, while Bella scrambled to her feet to watch. Raka moved with all haste, pinning the kitten against Erebor with her feet while working the twine over the kitten's neck. Negotiating little sharp claws and stubby legs took longer, and both bird and cat almost fell before Bella's horrified eyes, but soon it was done and Raka flung herself back from the ledge, spiraling back to watch Bella start to lift her precious burden. The kitten squawked and struggled, but there was no purchase to be found on the sheer face and Bella started to breath easier once the babe was halfway to her arms.

She knew the twine must be digging into skin and ribs, and tried to keep her motions slow and sure. There was only one chance at this now that she had begun. The sweat trickling down her brow stung. Down below, baleful eyes stared at her, with claws extended and lips curled over tiny white fangs. Distracted, Bella let her grip slip for a fraction of a moment but the damage was done at the black kitten tumbled down only to come to a sharp stop when the hobbit regained her purchase. Filled with what Dwalin called battle nerves, Bella leapt over the wall, clinging to the wall with strained fingers, to reach down and try to reassure the swinging kitten as she started reeling the line in again, passing the superfluous length to the hand anchoring them both to safety.

She felt her fingers slipping on the thin line once more, but gritted her teeth against the pain, pulling the squalling kit the last hands breath until she could scruff the babe and heave them both to safety. Sharp claws dug into her arm and wrist, but the trembling hobbit only laughed with great gasps for air. They were alive.

“Hello little fighter.” Bella kissed the tiny black nose and cuddled the kitten close. “Let's get you some milk and find you a safe bed.” A flutter of wings said that Raka had landed nearby, and Bella raised her head to meet her friend's dark eyes. The raven flared her wings before bobbing her head.

“My Queen. I am glad you are both safe. I will inform my father of your debt.”

“We will always be in debt to your people, Raka. This is mine alone to pay to you.”

“Then I will wait.” Raka flew away with a piercing cry, and Bella pressed a kiss to her kitten's head, recieving an enthusiastic swipe of claws on her hand in return. Laughing, she stood, cradling the young cat close to her chest.

“Now we just have to see what Thorin will say about you.” She had never asked if the dwarves had pets. She knew they had workings animals, the fighting rams and boars, but she had yet to see a dog or cat in Erebor. Perhaps her little fighter would be the first since the dragon.

 

Later, Bella was cuddling the tiny cat closer in her armchair, enjoying the soft hair and warmth against her neck. The door opened, making the animal twitch, but Bella soothed her with gentle touches as Thorin rounded the corner and stopped short.

“What is that?”

“A kitten I rescued from the cliff below my garden.”

“A what?” He came closer and reached out a hesitant finger, touching the cat on her forehead. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, and rubbed along his hand. “Hello there.” Before either of them could move, the newest resident of their kingdom leapt onto Thorin's chest and clambered to his shoulder, where she blinked down at her domain. Bella could see needle sharp claws gripping Thorin's shoulder, but he made no grimace of pain as he raised a hesitant knuckle to the kitten's chin. She rubbed the sides of her cheeks on his finger, her little purr relieving the worried queen of her fear she had hurt the animal in the rescue. Thorin’s hand was larger than the cat and he was treating her as though she was made of blown glass, his smile growing until the little animal tumbled from his shoulder as she tried to clamber onto his head. Thorin caught her easily, one hand below her belly, and held her up to his face.

“You are a little fighter, I can see. One who has fought her fate and won. I think we shall call her Zakfur, to celebrate her success.”

“Zakfur?” Bella tried to remember all the words she had heard, but could not place it.

“One who is victorious.” Thorin put two fingers to the kitten's forehead. “Welcome to Erebor, Zakfur.” Thorin lowered Zakfur and gave Bella a broad smile. “Do not look so surprised, my love. Cats love forges.”

“And dwarves. We are rather similar in some regard.”

“Oh?”

“Lost, cut off from family, and embraced by you.” Bella reached out to scratch behind the little one's ear, smiling at the chirping meow she received in return. Her husband's mouth pursed but he said nothing as Zakfur squawked, her hunger evident as she made her demands, and soon Bella and Thorin were seated in front of the fire, feeding the babe until she fell asleep in the crook of Thorin’s arm.

“You risked much for this animal.”

“I did.”

“As always your bravery for others astonishes me, my wife.” Thorin kissed Bella's forehead. “And humbles me. Go to sleep. Tomorrow I have much to do and you have a new child to look after and teach.” They stayed out in front of the fire for some time, however, creating a bed for their kitten and stealing away on soft feet so as not to wake her. In the middle of the night, Bella woke to find a soft bundle of fur sitting on her pillow and laughed before bidding the purring Zakfur a good night. It seemed their willful little black cat was going to be a constant source of surprise. She looked forward to the months and years to come, and fell asleep with a smile. On the edge of hearing, right before she slipped in pleasant dreams, she thought she heard two voices. The first was male, deep as the river, and he sounded thoughtful.

“She passed your test.”

“I expected nothing less. They will be good company for each other in the years to come.” The voice was the wind through the tops of trees and the river below, full of life and laughter. “Come. We have much more to tend to, _mo déantóir_.”

“As you say, _ghivashel_.”

In the morning, Bella only knew she dreamed of sweet, soft things, and was more concerned with the mouthful of black hair she woke with than strange voices in the night. She had a new life to tend to, one that would bring her joy and companionship in the years to come, but she would never forget the miracle of Zakfur's arrival and was forever mindful her little black cat was very special indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Nikita is derived from Greek and the goddess of victory, Nike.


End file.
